


More Than An Emergency

by duplicity



Series: Voldemort's Assassin Hotline [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Consensual Kidnapping, Fluff, Humor, M/M, crack treated like crack, harry has interesting fantasies about their relationship, lots of [REDACTED] thoughts, this seems contradictory but alas tom is full of surprises
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 11:33:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29259783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duplicity/pseuds/duplicity
Summary: Harry is very, very, VERY bored at work. He calls Tom for help. Lo and behold, Tom escalates the situation to unimaginable levels of dramatics.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort
Series: Voldemort's Assassin Hotline [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2132007
Comments: 39
Kudos: 179





	More Than An Emergency

**Author's Note:**

  * For [super_duper_cool_kid](https://archiveofourown.org/users/super_duper_cool_kid/gifts).



> this short story takes place after part two in this series.
> 
> i wrote this at work because i was, you guessed it, bored out of my goddamn mind ksjdsdgkj
> 
> dedicated to Kelly, who inspired this particular one-shot!

Harry spun a slow wheel in his office chair. He was terribly, horrifically bored. The kind of boredom that made him want to yank his brain out through his ears and give it a good hard shake. Maybe if he did that enough times, he would vibrate into another dimension and escape his current predicament of being bored out of his mind.

Whoever had invented the 40-hour work week ought to be hanged, Harry thought drearily as his chair completed another 360-degree spin.

“Dean, I’m bored,” Harry said aloud.

“It’s Friday. We’ll be out soon enough,” was Dean’s response from the computer station across from him.

Harry glanced at the clock. “We still have three more hours. I’m going to die before then.”

“Uh huh.”

“How’s Seamus? Blow up anything lately?”

“We nearly had an incident in the microwave last week, but luckily I caught him before it could happen.”

Boring. Harry sighed.

Dean looked up from his screen and peered over the top at Harry. “Why don’t you bug your boyfriend? See if he can make up some excuse and come get you.”

That was actually a great idea. “I might do that,” Harry agreed. “Thanks, Dean.”

“Any time.”

Harry picked his mobile up from his desk and switched the screen on. Upon seeing the time, his brain once again did the math and reminded him that he had three hours to go before he was officially free for the weekend.

> Tom?

> Tom Tom Tom Tom hello

_ > Yes? What is it? _

> Two fun facts for the day:

> You’re my boyfriend and you love me right

_ > I daresay at least one of those facts is true… _

> Haha you’re so funny Tom

> Have I told you how funny you are

> So funny

_ > I can’t tell if that’s sarcasm, or if you’re trying to butter me up _

_ > In the latter case, you’ll need to do a little better, darling _

> Okay how about this

> I really like it when you [REDACTED] [REDACTED] with [REDACTED] [REDACTED] and your [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED]

> Because [REDACTED] [REDACTED] [REDACTED] makes me [REDACTED] [REDACTED]

> Love you :)

There was a delightful delay of about three minutes while Harry waited for Tom’s response.

_ > …Did you need something? _

> I’m bored at work pls come save me

_ > Is that all? Say no more. I am on my way to make your dreams come true, my love _

Excellent. Harry sent Tom a bunch of heart emojis then put his phone away.

“Good news?” Dean asked absently.

“Fabulous news,” Harry confirmed.

Dean offered a thumbs up. “Enjoy your weekend, mate.”

“Absolutely I will do that.”

* * *

* * *

> So how long until you get here?

> Tom?

* * *

* * *

> Are you driving? I guess you’re driving

> We can go for dinner to that expensive place you wanted to try <3

“You know,” said Dean, “checking every two minutes isn’t going to make him come any faster.”

Harry narrowed his eyes. Dean was right, but that didn’t mean Harry had to like it. He set his phone back down on the desk. Tom would come by soon. Harry could be patient until then.

* * *

* * *

> I am feeling neglected

> If you got distracted by redoing your website template _again_ I’m not talking to you for a week

> ...but I do think if you added a shirtless pic it would bring in more web traffic

* * *

* * *

Over the last two hours, Harry’s texts had grown increasingly frequent and desperate. His last twelve texts were varying rephrases of the question _‘Are you okay? Did something happen?’,_ which had just now gotten a rather concerning _‘Almost there’_ in response.

Something must have happened. That was the only explanation there could be for Tom’s two-hour delay. Tom was, generally speaking, a punctual person. When he was late, it was with good reason. That said reasons were of the ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ variety was a minor detail.

Harry cast a morose glance in the direction of the window. The sun was beginning to set. So much for his hopes of leaving early. With a loud sigh, Harry slumped back in his chair, leaning his neck right over the top of it so that his head was suspended at a 180-degree angle.

“Something came up?” Dean asked sympathetically.

“He said he’d be here soon. I guess something must have held him up.”

“Life’s like that.” Dean nodded. “Well, I hope you have a good weekend anyway.”

“Thanks.” Harry resumed staring at the ceiling. To stave off his boredom, he had immersed himself in a favoured daydream scenario that featured him and Tom in very _specific_ roles.

_“Lord Harry, we’ve caught Riddle.”_

_Harry hummed his approval. “Is that so?”_

_“He’s just outside, my Lord.” Ron levelled a poisonous glare in the direction of the door. “Shall I bring him in?”_

_“Please do.”_

_Tom Riddle, also known as ‘the Chosen One’ in this universe, was brought into the room by Hermione. His wrists were bound behind his back, but the defiant fire in his eyes was burning as brightly as ever. Even bruised and battered, Tom was handsome._

_Hermione shoved Tom roughly to his knees. Tom winced at the impact but unleashed no cry of pain. His pride was admirable, but it would not help him here..._

_“Thank you, Hermione,” said Harry, raking his gaze over Tom’s dishevelled form. Sweat beaded along Tom’s forehead and soaked clean through his shirt. Hm. That shirt would have to go. “Leave us, if you please.”_

_Ron and Hermione left._

_“Going to torture me, lovely?” Tom panted, his shoulders twisting as he tried to shake his bonds off._

_Harry smiled. “What I have in mind is much kinder for the both of us, Riddle.”_

_Tom paused in his struggles and looked up at Harry. His dark eyes were framed by his pretty lashes. “Is that so?”_

_“We don’t have to fight,” Harry promised. “I don’t want to hurt you. In fact, I don’t think I would ever want to hurt you.”_

_Tom’s bonds vanished. Slowly, Tom brought his hands to his front and rubbed careful fingers around his wrists to restore their circulation. He licked his lips once. He was still kneeling on the stone floor before Harry’s high table, but this detail felt natural. It felt right. “What did you have in mind, then?”_

_Harry stepped closer and laid a hand on Tom’s shoulder. “I think you know the answer to that.” He fingered Tom’s shirt collar, then gave it a light tug. Tom’s pale face flushed with colour, giving away his true thoughts._

_“I don’t know what you mean,” Tom said tersely, but his eyes were fixed hungrily on Harry’s face, his thighs shifting restlessly as he tried to find comfort where there was none to be had—not yet, anyway._

_“Let me show you,” Harry breathed, reaching for the top button of Tom’s shirt—_

A violent crashing sound yanked Harry out of his fantasy. He turned in the direction of the noise, spotting two people in ski masks and leather jackets forcing their way onto the office floor. Both of them had guns, and one of them was definitely Harry’s boyfriend.

_“Give us Harry Potter,”_ intoned Tom, only it didn’t sound like _Tom,_ it sounded like Tom’s voice warped by a voice changer, _“and no one needs to get hurt.”_

“Christ, Harry,” Dean hissed. "This is what you get for saying you’re bored."

Harry couldn’t quite argue that, so he stood up and raised his hand. “That’d be me!”

Dean gaped at him. “What the _bloody_ hell do you think you’re doing—”

“It’s all good,” Harry said, trying to sound brave and confident and martyr-like instead of panicking and absolutely furious with his idiotic boyfriend.

Tom gestured for Harry to come closer. Resigned to his fate, Harry went over, got a cloth bag dumped over his head for his troubles, and was quickly ushered into the lifts and down to the ground floor, where he was pushed (gently) into the back of a van.

“Here we go!” Harry recognized Bella’s voice as the van accelerated out of the parking garage and onto the main road. She must have been the one driving because they were hitting all the speed bumps on their way out.

The cloth sack was tugged off of his head. Harry blinked and focused on Tom’s face. “What the hell was that?” he demanded.

“Your rescue mission, obviously.” Tom was far more pleased than the situation called for.

“That was not a rescue mission, that was a one-way ticket to being charged with a felony!”

Tom frowned. “You don’t like working there. You’re always telling me how much you don’t like it. So really, I’m doing you a favour by removing you from the situation.”

Harry yanked the cloth sack out of Tom’s hand. Then he hit Tom with it. “Just because I don’t like it there does _not_ mean I want you to instigate PTSD in all of my coworkers! How am I going to explain this on Monday morning? Not all of us have jobs where we can do whatever we like, you know.”

“My job is more exciting,” Tom agreed. 

Harry let out a noise of despair.

“Don’t be such a downer, Harry. _I_ think it went well,” Bellatrix said cheerfully from the driver’s seat. “We got in and got out without any fatal casualties. Success all around!”

“Your bar for success is very low,” Harry told her pointedly. “The criteria of ‘no dead people’ is not found on an exam question for a pass/fail uni course.”

“It is for assassins,” Bellatrix said brightly. “This was so much fun. I’m glad Tom asked me to come along.”

Meanwhile, Tom had sidled up to Harry and was now attempting to plant a kiss on Harry’s cheek. Harry let him, then shuffled a good distance away so he could glare again. Tom was not off the hook just yet.

“I would like to go back to work on Monday,” Harry said. “So you best figure out a way for that to happen, or else we won’t be doing _any_ of those things I mentioned liking in my texts to you.”

Tom slid over and took Harry’s hands in his. He gave Harry a puppy-eyed look. “Darling, I was only doing what I thought you wanted,” Tom said. He was pouting.

That comment reminded Harry of something else. “Why the hell did it take you _two hours_ to get here?”

“I had to get supplies,” Tom said with a huff. He released Harry’s hands so he could fold his arms across his chest, a motion that drew Harry's attention to Tom’s choice of attire.

Harry coughed. “Is that leather jacket new?”

“You’re free now, which is what you wanted, is it not?” Tom continued to talk like nothing was the matter, but Harry _thought_ he could see that the tips of Tom’s ears had gone faintly pink. “Now we will go to dinner. After Bellatrix drops us off at a secure location, that is.” 

“...How long will that take?”

“It will take approximately twenty minutes to reach the safe house, and then another twenty minutes to get to the restaurant.”

“I cannot believe you,” Harry said, exasperated. “I was _thirty minutes_ away from being off work, you berk.”

“It will be worth the wait,” Ton promised. He took Harry’s left hand and raised it to his mouth, placing a kiss to the back of it. “Decadence worthy of your lovely lips.”

“Flatterer,” Harry said, but he could feel the beginnings of a smile stretching across his face. “Don’t think this excuses you from fixing the problem you caused. Come Monday, I want to go back to work.”

“Don’t worry, I will have a solution prepared by then. We have the whole weekend together, after all.” The sultry glint in Tom’s eyes, however, suggested that their weekend together would feature events other than fixing Harry’s work life.

“Fine. But this weekend we’re doing things my way, not your way.”

“Your way?” Tom’s smirk melted into poorly-suppressed amusement. He moved his lips to the inside of Harry’s wrist, planting another delicate kiss there. “What way might that be, lovely?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” Harry said off-handedly, wondering if Tom’s weird assassin armory could be converted into a temporary throne room. “I may have a few ideas.”

* * *

* * *

“Where the _hell_ have you been, you asshole!” Dean demanded, stalking forward. He gave Harry’s shoulder a shove. “I tried calling Hermione, but she refused to tell me anything other than that you were alright. Said it _wasn’t her problem,_ of all things!”

“It’s top secret,” Harry said with a straight face. “The MI6 said I couldn’t say anything.”

Dean stared at him. “You’ve got to be shitting me, Harry. You don’t _seriously_ expect me to buy that.”

Harry kept his voice very level. “I expect you’ll have a… a very hard time finding an explanation that makes better sense than ‘top-secret MI6 shit’.”

“Fine. Don’t tell me. But don’t expect me to cover for you the next time you get bored and spend the rest of the day spinning in your office chair,” Dean said crossly.

“I told you that in confidence!” Harry protested. “We bonded over that! Worker drone solidarity, Dean. Us against capitalism!”

“Uh huh.”

“I’ll buy you coffee for the next two weeks,” Harry tried.

“Four weeks.”

“...Three weeks?”

“Four. Weeks. Or no deal,” Dean emphasized.

Fine. Whatever. Tom would be buying Dean Thomas coffee for the next four weeks. Harry stuck out his hand. “Deal.”

**END.**

**Author's Note:**

> find me & my writing updates on tumblr [here](https://duplicitywrites.tumblr.com)!
> 
> feel free to join my personal discord server for my writing (and where i livewrite things sometimes) [here](https://discord.gg/BJRP4A5)!


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